


Poltergeists for Sidekicks

by transrich



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Spencer Reid, Canon Compliant, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Improper Use of Needles, M/M, Oneshot, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s02e15 Revelations, Post-Episode: s03e02 In Name and Blood, Spencer Reid has PTSD, casefic, description of needles/injections, except if Spencer didn't get help, mlm spencer reid, no established relationship with anyone, that's not a sex thing spencer just isn't following protocol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transrich/pseuds/transrich
Summary: Spencer Reid has been battling too many issues for too long: his addiction at the hands of Tobias Hankel, Gideon leaving, and finally...his raging crush on a team member. All of these come to a head when Reid, undercover at a party, meets a handsome stranger that reminds him a little too much of said team member. Is this man just what he needs...or will it all become too much for Reid to handle?
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid (one-sided), Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely based on a TikTok I saw by @cospals and @mihealkeeehl so full creds to them for the original idea, I just took it and ran with it!  
> Also the title is from Ghosting by Mother Mother

“Your brain may be decades older, but you’re still the youngest here, Reid,” Morgan teased, ruffling his hair. “You belong better than any of us.” Reid looked up at him in annoyance, smoothing his hair back down.

“My _brain_ is exactly why I shouldn’t go. It’s a proven fact that people in their twenties have both higher disdain and suspicion for people whose syntax doesn’t match their own. They’ll clock me as an agent before I get anything out of them,” Reid insisted, rubbing the hem of his sweater vest between his thumb and middle finger. “Also, I don’t have anything to wear. Nothing that comes close to making me look like an average partygoer.”

“That, my little sugar dumpling, is the least of your worries,” Garcia said with a wink. “I’ll turn you from student teacher to sexy pussycat in no time.” Her gaze became dreamily unfocused then, as if she was already planning his outfits. _Do I want to be a pussycat?_ Reid thought to himself, furrowing his eyebrows.

Morgan raised his own eyebrow in amusement. “See? Nothin’ to worry about, kid.” He smiled, but then sat down on the edge of the table and looked at Reid in concern. “If this is about Hankel, or Gideon--”

“It’s not!” Reid interrupted. “It’s been months, Morgan. I’m fine! I’m _fine._ I’m not going to be traumatized by some twenty-six-year old’s party. I just won’t fit in, that’s all,” he told him indignantly, standing up and pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from his colleagues.

“We’re sending Prentiss in, too,” Hotch reminded. “You’re not going into this alone.”

Reid sighed and slowly turned back, raising his hands in defeat. “Okay, but if they make me do a keg stand, I’m leaving,” he warned, making his teammates laugh.

“They’re all in their late twenties, Spence,” JJ reminded him with an amused smile. “Not the college kids you remember from being fifteen.”

“I graduated from undergraduate at sixteen,” Reid corrected, but he looked confused. “I didn’t realize they stopped after college.”

* * *

“Stephanie Johnson, twenty-five, went missing three days ago.”

_A single lightbulb swinging overhead._

“Her friends, Jacob Williams and Abigail Harrison were the last people to see her alive _four_ days ago, but even though the police found them suspicious during initial questioning…”

_A revolver barrel spinning, rattling into his brain._

“…they didn’t have enough evidence to hold any of them.”

_Long-buried memories._

“We found Harrison’s MySpace account, where she posted an open invitation this party, and blatantly told invitees to ask about the ‘drugs’.”

_A needle, slipping into his skin._

“If they mean it, we can bust them on a drug charge and hold them until we can build a case for the disappearance. If it’s code…we could find her tonight.”

_Bliss filling his system--_

“Reid, are you even listening?”

“Huh?” Reid blinked and looked at Prentiss, smoothing out the short-sleeve button up Garcia had supplied him with. It was bright pink and crossed with white stripes. Not his style, but paired with the dark skinny jeans that were _also_ not his style, even Hotch had given him an approving look. He had to admit Garcia knew what she was doing…to some extent.

“I was going over the case, something I shouldn’t even have to do when you’re the other one in the field. You should’ve been finishing my sentences. Reid, you’re out of it. You sure you can do this?” Prentiss asked, eyeing him with concern.

“Yeah, sorry. Just—distracted. I’m sorry. I won’t be. I can do this, Prentiss. I’m fine,” Reid promised. “Get in, see what we can get from her friends, and get out. We do this all the time. I’ve got it.” Prentiss still stared at him. “I’ve _got_ it.” He slipped out of the car and began walking up to the house, not waiting for his partner. They were supposed to enter separately anyway. He was fine. He was _fine_.

The house burst with music, making Reid wince. He could handle the noise from jet’s engines, but a crowded house, people touching him on every side and yelling in his face…this sensory overload was exactly what he’d managed to avoid all his years of college. He shuddered. _JJ doesn’t know what she’s talking about._

 _“Looks like people have continued to party like undergrads since JJ graduated,”_ Prentiss commented through the earpiece hidden behind Reid’s hair, making him smile.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He slowly made his way through the crowd, his height giving him an advantage as he looked for the victim’s friends. They were here somewhere, they had to be.

“Hey, man!” An overly eager man came into Reid’s view, dark and broad and effectively barring his path. “Here, take this.” He held out a Solo cup. Reid blinked down at it, then up at the man. He stiffened as their fingers brushed, the cup slowly passing from one hand to the other, but hoped it didn’t show. He held the drink awkwardly, ready to move on and set it down somewhere, but the man stared. After another second, he cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m Jesse.” Reid stared at him for a moment before lifting the cup to his lips and feigning a sip. He licked his lips as he brought the cup down. He didn’t taste salt—no Rohypnol. This man wasn’t trying to roofie him. Or, if he was, he was smart.

He gave the man a forced smile and nodded politely. “Spencer,” he offered, after it seemed like he was waiting for a response. “It was great meeting you, Jesse, but I’m actually meeting a friend here, so—”

Jesse raised his hands. “I get it. No problem, Spencer.” He gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Uh, right.” Reid smiled awkwardly in return, then skirted around him, his palms sweaty for no reason. He considered warning Prentiss, then decided against it. He seemed harmless enough, and Reid hadn’t even sipped the drink. He couldn’t have been drugged. He was fine. He was _fine_.

_Focus on the mission, Spencer._

He couldn’t help but look behind himself, though, and it sent a shiver down his spine to see Jesse looking back. He quickly whipped his head back around, licking his lips. It meant nothing. He wasn’t guilty of anything. Right? He was just on high alert—as he should be, he reminded himself. He was here for a reason. Any of these people could be involved in the disappearance of a young woman. Nobody would escape scrutiny. Not even handsome strangers that bore a striking resemblance to one of his teammates.

He found the staircase and scanned the room to make sure he wasn’t being followed before slipping upstairs. He could hear drunken laughter coming from one of the doors, muffled whispers coming from another. He swallowed, wiping his palms on his jeans. Why was he so nervous? He had been face to face with serial killers and not batted any eye. This was tame, as assignments went. He needed to calm down. _Not like that,_ he mentally berated himself. He shook his head and took a deep breath before stumbling through the door.

“Shit, my bad,” he said with a laugh, letting his tongue slur the words. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even been tipsy, but it wasn’t hard to imitate a seriously inebriated person. Especially not after going to a bar on a night off with Prentiss, Garcia, and JJ. “Hey, um…” His hand slipped on the wall where he tried to balance himself, making him laugh again. “Am I interrupting something?” He kept his eyes vaguely unfocused, but he could tell exactly who he was in the room with. Abigail Harrison, the victim’s friend, and a stranger. He quickly committed every detail of the man to memory: his dark hair, piercing green eyes, stocky build, veiny arms and hands…

He pulled his gaze away from the other man to focus on the woman, who had begun to speak. “That depends,” she said coolly. “What are you looking for?” Her hands were in her pockets, and her posture was relaxed, seemingly unbothered by Reid’s entrance.

“Um…” Reid glanced around furtively. “The _drugs_ ,” he whispered with another fake laugh. “You know, from the post. What’d’you got?” He internally cringed at the double contraction as he gestured wildly, the drink Jesse had given him sloshing over the sides of the cup. _Guess there was one good thing to come out of that._

Abigail smirked and exchanged a glance with the other man, meant to be subtle in front of a drunken partygoer but quickly caught by Reid. “Whaddya want?” she asked, going over to the chest of drawers. He’d been so focused on the two people in the room that he hadn’t taken in the contents of the room itself. _Maybe I am worse off than I thought._ It was something he never would’ve let slide past him had he been on his game. The chest of drawers was the only clean piece of furniture in the room. It looked more deliberate than simply from use. Every surface of the piece shone in the dim moonlight streaming through the blinds. But Reid didn’t take as much interest in it as he should’ve, his gaze drawn to the bottles Abigail pulled out from the drawers themselves. A hazy, ethereal glow surrounded them, and Reid’s mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Where’d you get that?” he croaked, completely fixated on the familiar bottles. _I tried. I couldn’t find anyone who sold it._

Abigail smirked. “I have connections.” _Connections. It’s only available in hospitals. Tell Garcia…_ But Reid’s mind, usually able to multitask with ease, hyperfocused on the little bottles in the woman’s hand, all other thoughts slipping out the window.

_No. NO. You’re better than this._

_No, I’m not._

_You are. I know you are, Spence._

_It’s not worth fighting. It’s right there. So close. So, so close._

_Spence, no—_

“How much?”

* * *

Reid locked the bathroom door with shaking hands, pulling the bottle and syringe out of his pocket. He gritted his teeth as he looked down at his inner elbow, littered with track marks. The team’s eyes had all conveniently slid past them when examining his look for the night. Everyone at the party was too intoxicated to care, or even notice. At least they had an excuse. Reid scoffed. He turned the bottle around in his hands, a Dilaudid-shaped and elephant-sized weight lifted off his shoulders. “They don’t care,” he whispered to himself. “If they cared, they would’ve said something. Anything. They’re profilers. They’ve noticed.” The anger bubbled up in his chest, his hands still shaking. He set the bottle down, harder than he would’ve liked, and gripped the granite countertop of the sink. His veins began to pop slightly, pulsing just under his skin. It would be so easy. He could do it right here, right now. He ached. Every minute of every day he went without the drug pulsing through his body, he ached. It wasn’t _fair_. He hated the way it made him relive his childhood, every traumatic experience up until now. His parent’s divorce, his mother’s rapid decline, the taunting and bullying he’d suffered at the hands of his peers…the memories were infinite. But he also loved it. The way he could let his mind go on autopilot instead of directing it down a dozen different paths for every thought, the way all the tension left his body. He didn’t have to be Dr. Spencer Reid: prodigy, genius…everything. He could be Spencer Reid… _nothing_.

 _“Reid, what’s the word? Find anything?”_ Prentiss’ voice crackled through the earpiece, making Reid jump. He’d forgotten. They were still here on a mission. He looked at the bottle and swore as he shoved it and the syringe back in his pocket.

“Still looking,” he lied. “I’ll be back soon.” He felt a pit in his stomach. What if the hospital connection led to the BAU finding the missing woman? Then, he shook it off. He didn’t need to tell them about the drugs. He could tell them he overheard someone mention Abigail and the hospital. That was all he needed. He remembered what Morgan said months ago, when he’d expressed concern about feeling what the victims felt. _Use it_ , he’d said. His newfound empathy wasn’t doing much for him right now. Still, he was fine. He was _fine._

He smoothed his hair back and his shirt down, then walked out of the bathroom. The door hit the wall behind him, making him jump. Why was he so on edge? Well, he knew why. It was the illegal drug he had hidden in his pocket and the information he was withholding from his teammates, members of the FBI. That was all.

“Spencer.”

Reid immediately spun around. He only had to briefly scan the source of the voice to recognize the face. He shoved him back against the wall, pinning him with his forearm against his neck. “Why are you following me? What do you want?” His voice cracked, bordering on desperate.

Jesse threw his hands up. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think I would scare you so much. And, uh, I’m not really into the BDSM scene, if that’s what you’re going for with that.” He gestured to Reid’s arm, still pressing into his throat.

Reid backed up, dropping his arm. “I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I’m just jumpy—” he stammered, shaking all over. _Calm down, Spence. You’re okay. Just breathe._ He took an unsteady breath.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Jesse said easily, putting a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Harmless misunderstanding, right?” He smiled at Reid, who slowly nodded.

“Right. I am sorry, though. And, uh—” He laughed awkwardly. “I wasn’t going for any sort of BDSM thing. Although, if I were, I wouldn’t be the one doing _that_.” He went pink as he realized what he had implied.

Thankfully, though, Jesse just laughed. “I can work with that,” he teased playfully. “Hey, did you ever find your _friend_ , or…you wanna get out of here?” His eyes darted down to Reid’s lips.

For a moment, Reid let himself imagine what it would be like if he said yes. Maybe he could just leave. Tell Prentiss he was following a lead, to not worry about him. Maybe he could get lost in this big, strong man and bury his feelings for anyone—any _thing_ else. Maybe he could stave off the cravings for a few more hours.

Or maybe he’d just end up like Stephanie Johnson.

“I…I can’t,” Reid replied, feeling each breath like a new weight in his lungs. “I have to go.” He looked at Jesse. “I’m sorry.” And he was. “I just…I can’t.”

Jesse looked down. “Yeah, alright. I get it. Here. In case you change your mind.” He grabbed Reid’s left wrist. He jumped, but the man’s callused fingers against his pulse point calmed him more than he would’ve liked to admit. He produced a ballpoint pen from his back pocket and scrawled his phone number on his inner arm. If he noticed the track marks, he didn’t mention them. _There’s the difference. That’s being polite. He’s allowed to ignore them. But Prentiss? Hotch? Garcia? JJ? Gideon? Derek?_ Jesse straightened up. “There. If you ever change your mind…I’ll be there.” He smiled, and Reid flushed. “Have a good night, Spencer.”

“Yeah. You too, Jesse.” He waved awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went down the stairs. His left hand curled around the bottle in his pocket and the other resurfaced to touch his earpiece. “It’s a wash. Nothing upstairs.”

 _“Talked to a few people down here, but nothing. Let’s head out.”_ Spencer looked back up the stairs, sighing before leaving out the front door. The car was already running, waiting at the end of the driveway.

Reid climbed into the passenger seat, keeping his left arm tucked close to his body. “I talked to a few people who said Abigail had a connection to the hospital, but Garcia looked them up already, right? She doesn’t work there.”

Prentiss nodded. “That’s more than I got. Nobody seemed to know anything about Stephanie, or her friends. I got the impression most people heard about the party from friends of friends. That’s what we get for trying to find information from an open-invite-party,” she sighed, pulling into the street. She glanced over at Reid and raised an eyebrow. “What you got there?”

Immediately, Reid panicked, but he forced himself to stay calm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the writing on your arm, genius,” she teased, reaching over and gently turning his wrist. “Did you…get a girl’s number?” she asked, clearly impressed.

“Something like that,” Reid mumbled, looking out the window and tugging his arm away from her. Immediately after, Prentiss lapsed into silence. Both were disheartened by the lack of a lead, but more than that, it was painful. Painful that they refused to acknowledge it. Prentiss wasn’t blind. She was just cruel. They all were.

The drive back to the hotel was tense and awkward. Reid clambered out of the car the second they’d pulled to a stop and headed inside, missing how Prentiss opened her mouth.

“Reid—” she started, but the lobby doors were already swinging closed. She sighed, her eyes burning with tears she wasn’t allowed to shed.

* * *

Reid collapsed in the cushy chair of his hotel room, immediately fishing out the small bottle and the syringe. He’d locked the door the moment he’d gone through. Nobody was talking to him tonight. He couldn’t make himself wait anymore. Not now that he had it. He took the tie he had worn earlier that day to use as a crude tourniquet. It didn’t have to be fancy--it just had to work. He watched in sick fascination as his vein swelled, then picked the needle up. He drew back a miniscule amount; he had to make this bottle last. He was just about to plunge the needle into his vein when there was a knock at the door. “Son of a bitch!”

He tore off the tie and stalked over to the door, checking the intruder through the peephole. _Oh._ Morgan stood there, pacing in the small width of the hallway. Reid slowly opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone laced with impatience. Even for Morgan, his tolerance was dwindling by the second.

“Yeah, hey, Reid. Listen, I just wanted to check on you…” Morgan said, and Reid gritted his teeth when he saw his eyes scanning the room behind him. He moved in front of the other agent, blocking his view. Morgan rubbed the back of his neck and changed the subject. “Heard you got some chick’s number. Sounds like you fit in just fine at that party.” He gave him a crooked smile, and Reid saw a flash of Jesse’s face before seeing Morgan’s again. Was he…disappointed? Reid frowned.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” He didn’t know why he bothered to hide it. It wasn’t that he thought that the team would judge him. He supposed he didn’t want to deal with Garcia and JJ trying to set him up with guys he knew he wouldn’t like. Who wouldn’t like him. Because he was different. Because he wasn’t what people wanted in a boyfriend. Because he didn’t want anyone but the one he couldn’t have. It was such a goddamn cliché.

Morgan looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he closed his mouth and sighed. He looked at Reid, and for a split second, they could each see the pain in the other man’s eyes. But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. “Be careful, kid,” he said quietly, touching his shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” That came more firmly, leaving no room for argument. _Do what you have to, but you will make it to tomorrow._

“Yeah,” Reid agreed softly, looking at Morgan’s shoulder instead of his face. “I’ll see you.” He waited for the other man to turn around to shut the door, immediately pressing his back to it and sliding to the floor. _So close. You were so close._ _Come back._ He pushed his palms into his eyes. _Please come back._ But exactly fifteen minutes later, there had been no more communication. So, with a shaky breath, Reid pushed himself off the floor. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He then repeated the simple knot around his arm and wiped his elbow off with some alcohol. He may have had to continue using, but he could take care of himself while doing it.

He took a breath. The needle slipped under his skin and the drug began to flow. He carefully pulled the needle out and set it down on the side table, just before the effects began to set in. His body became limp in the chair, so much more comfortable than the hard wood of Hankel’s cellar. His eyelids fluttered and his head rolled on his neck. He hated it. He loved it. He was fine. He was _fine._


	2. Chapter Two

_“Please—"_

_“Stop, please—"_

_“No, I don’t want it, I don’t—”_

He gasped awake, his skin a live wire shocking him with every touch of his clammy palms to his flesh. He pulled at his hair, stuck to his sticky forehead, as his chest heaved. _You’re not there. You’re safe. You’re safe._ His eyes roved around the room, looking for five things. _Chair. Lamp. Door. TV. Closet._ Four things to touch. _Bedsheet against legs. Skin against skin. Pillow against head. Comforter against hand._ Three things he could hear. _Traffic noises in the street. Hum of the air conditioning. Static from the bathroom’s fluorescent lights._ Two things he could smell. _His own sweat, spiked with fear. The vaguely musty pillowcases, sprayed with cheap Febreze._ And one thing he could taste. _Blood._

Reid slowly sat up. His heart still raced, but at least now he could breathe. His tongue stung from where he’d bitten down on it in his sleep, and the thin undershirt he’d managed to keep on was soaked through with sweat. He pressed his palms into his eyes and stood up, shakily walking into the bathroom. He squinted and turned the brighter light off. He didn’t remember turning them on.

He stumbled over to the shower and lazily grasped for the faucet, not bothering to wait for it to heat up. He got in and leaned against the shower wall, his boxer briefs and shirt plastered to his skin. He shivered and began to sway. _More. You need more._ “I need more…” he mumbled, his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to the porcelain of the shower wall. _Can’t._ _Meeting at seven._ Reid pushed his trembling lips together. He didn’t get to stay here. It wasn’t fair.

Reid stood in the shower for exactly sixteen minutes before stepping out, soaking wet. He hadn’t taken his clothes off or bothered to wash the previous night off him. A thought struck him then, and he looked down at his arm. “Shit.” He didn’t know why he bothered to save it in his mind. He wouldn’t call him. He couldn’t. He would never be able to shed the FBI agent buried deep into his being. Not even for a night. Not even for a handsome man with big hands and a bigger smile.

Still dripping, Reid left the bathroom. He immediately went over to the side table as if drawn to it. He looked at the Dilaudid sitting innocently on top and grabbed the bottle, burying it underneath loose paper at the bottom of his bag. _Bad idea bad idea bad bad bad._ “Shut up,” he muttered to himself, standing up. He blinked and looked down at himself, finally realizing he hadn’t undressed. _This isn’t going to be easy._

* * *

When Reid walked into the station, Morgan was waiting for him. He handed him a coffee cup, their fingers brushing together. “Black, three sugars. Just how you like it, kid.” He smiled, but it was strained. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, taking Reid’s wrist gently.

Reid could’ve stood there all day with the warmth of the coffee in one hand and the gentle pressure of Morgan’s thumb pressing into his pulse point on the other wrist, but he forced himself to answer. “Yeah. I’m alright. Thanks for the coffee.” He tried to walk away, but Morgan held firm. “Morgan, I’m _fine_. Please.” His voice was quietly desperate as he looked into the other man’s eyes. “We have a meeting to get to.” He looked away.

Morgan sighed. “I know, Reid. But you matter more than the meeting. If there’s anything you want to say to me—”

“There’s not,” Reid interrupted, his face burning embarrassingly hot. “Let’s go.” He pulled his wrist away from him and headed into the conference room. _You matter more._ What was that supposed to mean?

Hotch looked up from the case file when Reid walked in. “You’re here.” Despite his efforts, Hotch sounded slightly surprised, which made Reid’s irritation quickly rise to anger.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You don’t have to treat me like a child, Hotch. I know how to handle myself,” he snapped, his face still red. Now, though, it was from humiliation. “You all have to stop treating me like I’m going to break. I’ve told you over and over I’m fine, but none of you listen!”

“Spence,” JJ began gently, stepping towards him with an outstretched hand.

“Don’t _Spence_ me right now, JJ,” he interrupted, stepping away from her. “You all act like I can’t do my job anymore because I got kidnapped almost a _year_ ago and then Gideon left! I’m not incompetent, I’m not traumatized, I’m not a failure! Can we pay attention to the _actual_ problem right now? There’s a reason we’re at the police station right now, and it’s not to stage an intervention!” He breathed heavily, looking at all his coworkers, daring them to say something.

Hotch cleared his throat. “You’re right. Apologies, Reid.” He blinked down at the case file, then looked up at them, his professional stoicism back. “Garcia messaged me earlier with Myspace messages between Abigail Harrison and a user who went only by _starsixteen_. They were discussing a meeting point for Harrison to pick up drugs, presumably ones she couldn’t find on her own considering they mentioned a hospital multiple times. Reid—”

_This is it. He’s going to call me out on it and it’ll be over._

“—analyze these messages and see if you can figure out anything about _starsixteen’_ s identity, or the hospital they’re getting the drugs from. This could be entirely unrelated to the victim’s disappearance, but you know it doesn’t hurt to investigate.” Hotch slid a folder down the table to where Reid had settled. “Morgan, Prentiss, go to the other friend’s house. Jacob Williams. See if there’s any information you can get from him that he didn’t already give to the police. I’ll send you the address. JJ, work up a statement we can release to the press while we investigate further. Good luck.” Hotch nodded and left the room, presumably to talk to the sheriff.

Reid’s heart raced. _He doesn’t know_. Hotch had a good poker face, but not impenetrable. Not if you knew him. Not if you were Reid. It was clear he was suspicious; that had nothing to do with the party. No, that was all Reid. He didn’t blame Hotch for that part. Reid didn’t snap at them. He knew he wasn’t behaving normally, but he couldn’t help it. Not when they were all giving him special treatment, acting like he had to be coddled. It wasn’t fair.

This, though, he could do. This was one of his specialties. One of his _passions_. He could do this easily. Reid opened the folder to see the printed message exchange. Within a minute, he had read and processed the information. He reached for his bag. Pulling out his notebook sent other papers spilling out alongside it, and Reid swore. He gathered them back up, putting them haphazardly into his bag. The Dilaudid rolled around at the bottom of his bag, clattering alongside the pens buried at the bottom. He looked around frantically to make sure nobody had heard, stuffing the papers in his bag with a bit more urgency.

By the time Hotch came back, Reid had pages of notes. He stood up, spreading out the printed messages for him to reference. “ _starsixteen_ is a staff member of the hospital. Using what she said here and here—” He pointed out the context. “—in addition to the ‘star’ in her screen name, I’m guessing she works at MedStar Washington Hospital Center. And yes, they’re a she. She most likely works as maintenance or a secretary. She likes to tell people she works at a hospital, but is embarrassed to tell them it’s not in a medical profession. It’s easy for her to go unnoticed, but at the same time, she’s friendly enough to other staff members to not raise suspicious when she is. Nobody would suspect her of stealing drugs, but she mostly likely takes nurses’ key cards to gain access to the hydromorphone and returns them later under the pretense that she found them on the floor outside the nurses’ lounge or something similar.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “You got all of that from a few messages?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“I’m making educated assumptions. Also, her staff ID most likely has a one-six in it somewhere, probably the first two digits. As I mentioned, she likes the prestige of working in a hospital, even though she’s not high up.” Reid felt a glow in his chest, something he rarely felt anymore. This was what he was in the FBI for. Not field work, falling fleetingly for handsome strangers or seduced by glass bottles in shiny cabinets. Analysis. Crunching data. No emotions, just logic. Something that had a clear answer. No second-guessing.

Hotch nodded. “Alright, then. I’ll update Prentiss and Morgan, see if they can get an ID from Williams.” Reid smiled a little. He nodded back, watching the older man leave. He looked around for JJ—nothing. He was alone again. He glanced around before grabbing his bag and heading to the bathroom.

Reid checked the stalls before locking the bathroom door. He set his bag down on the counter and pawed through it, pulling out the bottle and the syringe. He shouldn’t use it again, he knew he shouldn’t, anyone with any basic medical knowledge knew he shouldn’t, but he didn’t have a _choice_. He couldn’t find another. He’d cleaned it off, though, before he’d left, so he had that small measure of safety. He rolled up his sleeve, gauging how much he could take without it being overly obvious. He’d done two milligrams last night; he certainly wouldn’t be able to function with that much. Half a milligram, he decided. Half, he could do. He gritted his teeth. It wasn’t fair. He wanted _more_.

He repeated the motions from last night, this time unbuckling his belt to use as a tourniquet. He wouldn’t have the motor skills to redo his tie, he was sure of it. Before he could doubt himself, he let the belt fall to the ground and plunged the needle into his vein. He pulled it out, stumbling as his legs became weak under him. _This wasn’t a good idea_ , he thought dimly. He stood there for almost a minute, trying with clumsy fingers to recap the needle. In the end, he gave up, sweeping it and the bottle back into his bag and stepping out of the bathroom.

Hotch stood directly outside the door, and his eyes darkened when he saw the state Reid was in. “Outside,” he ordered, his voice stern but wavering infinitesimally. Reid swallowed. His mouth was dry. He needed water. He slowly made his way out of the station—

_“Do you think I’ll see my mom again?” Tobias’ voice was shaky as he looked up at Reid, his glassy eyes reflecting the stars._

_Reid clutched the man’s shirt. He hated himself for hating himself. It was self-defense. He had been beaten, drugged, traumatized. He deserved reparations. But did he have to do it that way? So cruelly?_

He blinked, his gaze unfocused. Hotch was speaking, his mouth was moving, but he didn’t hear the words.

_You must be frightened, and I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then, I also never envisioned writing this letter._

Reid laughed dryly. “Cause me any pain,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Bullshit. He knew he was leaving.” It wasn’t fair. He was the closest thing Reid had to a father, and he left with nothing but a letter.

Hotch had been talking for about a minute before he realized nothing he was saying was getting anywhere close to Reid’s brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He glanced over at the bench outside of the station. “Reid.”

Reid’s head snapped up, imagining Hankel’s gun laying heavy in his hands.

Hotch gently took Reid’s wrist and led him over to the bench, helping him sit down. “What are we going to do with you, Reid?” he muttered. Reid put his head into his hands.

_Spencer staggered home, shivering and sobbing. At the very least, he’d managed to find his boxers from where they had been hidden on the football field, but he was otherwise completely bare. His feet ached, and he probably had rocks and bits of glass embedded in the soles. He hadn’t stopped to check. They could come back._

_He pounded on his front door; he’d lost the key along with his pants. There was no response. He went to the back door. Thankfully for him, it was open, but the sight made his stomach sink. “Mom?” he called. No response again. He slowly walked over to his mother’s bedroom._

_“Spencer, they’re—they’re talking to me again!” Diana screamed, covering her ears. “The men on the TV, they’re telling me lies!” She threw a shoe at the wall, narrowly missing the television. “They’re trying to indoctrinate me! I don’t want to join their sick cult!”_

_Spencer looked down and bit his lip, then up at the television. The news was on. He didn’t know why they still had a TV in her room anymore anyway. It only ever triggered her. He found the remote, buried under a pile of old books, and turned the TV off. “There, Mom. Are the men gone?” he asked softly, going over to her and rubbing her back._

_Diana paused. “Yes,” she breathed, looking at him with reverence. “Yes, they’re gone. Thank you, Spencer.” He wasn’t naïve enough to think that that was the end of the episode, but the absence of the TV clearly helped._

_Spencer hugged his mother tightly, his bare skin freezing against the heat of her wool sweater. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s gonna be okay.”_

Hotch looked up when he saw the car pull into the parking lot. He glanced at Reid before going over to the other agents. “Prentiss, inside. I’ll be there in a minute. Morgan…” He looked back at Reid, and the other man nodded.

“Got it.” Morgan took a deep breath and shook his head as he got out of the car. Prentiss quickly passed Reid, mustering up the effort to maintain a straight face. “Hey, pretty boy,” he said softly as he approached.

Hotch shook his head. “Good luck with that. I’ve been talking to him for ten minutes. Nothing. All I can tell is he isn’t overdosing. I think this is normal.” He looked at Morgan. “As normal as this can be.” He cleared his throat. “Can you take care of him? We can’t have him here. When he sobers up…I’ll talk to him,” he said grimly. “For now, we need him out of the way.”

Morgan rubbed his face. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed with a sigh. “Prentiss will update you guys on what we found.” He sat down next to the younger man. “Reid?” he asked quietly. “How we feeling?” Reid finally lifted his face from his hands, his eyes still glassy and his hair stuck to his forehead. Morgan inhaled sharply. “Damnit, Reid.”

“I want my mom back,” he told him brokenly. Was that Morgan? It didn’t look like Hotch anymore. “I love her, but I want _her_ back. It’s not _fair_.”

“I know what you mean, kid,” Morgan said under his breath before standing up again. “Come on, I don’t know what Hotch was thinking, bringing you outside. You need to go back inside, drink some water.” He took Reid’s open hands and pulled him up. Reid leaned into his side.

“Don’t think my legs work anymore,” he confessed, his head on a loose swivel. “You’ll have to carry me. I’m sorry.” If it hadn’t been so pathetic, it would’ve been funny. But Morgan just sighed again, brushing Reid’s hair off his forehead.

“You’ve got it, Reid. I’ll help you. We just have to make it to the interrogation room. That’s not too far, right?” Morgan put his arm around Reid’s waist, holding onto the hand he slung around his shoulders. “One step at a time. You’ve got it.” Reid slumped into Morgan’s side, every step he took taxing. Morgan glared at the officers inside, daring any of them to comment. He didn’t worry about excuses. If he had to, Hotch would come up with it.

They reached the interrogation room and Reid all but collapsed into the chair. Morgan crossed the floor, filling up a paper cup and handing it to him. Reid threw it back and looked up at him desperately. “More,” he begged, and Morgan quickly filled it back up, then sat down on the edge of the table.

“You said you didn’t have anything to tell me, Reid.” Morgan’s voice was quiet. “What are we gonna do? You know Hotch is gonna suspend you, at the very least, and—" He broke off, rubbing his face. “You said you were okay. I shouldn’t’ve believed you. I was stupid to think you were fine. Stupid.” He exhaled the last word. “I could’ve helped you, kid. I would’ve. I would do anything for you. I thought you knew that.”

Reid stared through him. For a long while, it seemed as if he would say nothing at all, and Morgan’s words would hang there, unable to be taken back or excused. Still, Morgan tried. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re—I’m—”

“You never told me that,” came Reid’s response finally. He looked down at Morgan’s hand, splayed on the steel table. “You never told me you would do anything for me.”

Morgan exhaled through his teeth and shook his head. “Damnit, Reid, I didn’t think I had to,” he told him, laughing softly. Then, he sighed. Reid still looked like a hot mess. He was stupid to think two cups of water would change that. “What are we gonna do with you?” he repeated.

“I don’t…don’t know,” Reid said tiredly, putting his head in his arms. Morgan looked down and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

Suddenly, Hotch came storming into the room. “Morgan, there you are. Listen, I’ll get someone to take Reid back to the hotel. We just got a call about an individual at the hospital. Could be our unsub. We need you.”

Morgan stood up when Hotch came in, but shook his head. His hand stayed on Reid’s shoulder protectively. “I’m not leaving him with some stranger. I’m staying here.”

Hotch’s eyes were dark. “Morgan, I am your superior. When I say we need you, we need you.”

“And when I say I’m staying, I’m staying,” Morgan shot back, putting his other hand on Reid’s other shoulder. “I’m not leaving, Hotch. I’m sorry.”

Hotch looked between Reid, who hadn’t even looked up, and Morgan, staring intensely at him, and sighed. “Fine. But the second you bring him back, you come join us,” he told him sternly. Morgan sighed in relief. “I appreciate your loyalty. And I know he does too.” He gestured with his chin toward Reid. “Even if he doesn’t understand right now.”

“Understand,” Reid mumbled into his arms.

“Thank you, Hotch. Look, I’ll take my phone out—” Morgan pulled it from his back pocket and set it on the table. “If you can’t handle it without you, Prentiss, JJ, and your backup, I’ll come running. But I think you can.” Hotch nodded, then swiftly left the room. Morgan sat back down on the table. “See, kid? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Actually…” Reid looked up, resting his cheek on his elbow. “Do you mind…getting a water bottle?” His words slurred, but he seemed at least semi-lucid. “Paper cups…don’t work.” He chuckled to himself and rested his forehead back on his arms.

Morgan smiled. “Yeah, sure.” He tousled Reid’s hair, then made for the door. He turned before he left completely and grabbed Reid’s bag. “No funny business. Don’t leave. Not that I think you could.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and left to find a bottle.

Reid waited sixty-five seconds before lifting his head up. Morgan had left his phone on the table, just like he had thought. He pulled it to him, his hands feeling like weights, and dialed a number.

* * *

“Hey, is there a Spencer here?” Jesse asked, frowning a little. “Spencer, uh…I don’t know his last name.”

The officer—Johnson—frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m, uh, a friend?” Jesse said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “He called me, like, fifteen minutes ago. Was he…was he arrested?”

Johnson laughed. “Yeah, okay. If you’re asking that question, you don’t know him at all.”

Now it was Jesse’s turn to frown. “Whaddyou mean? I just—he’s at the police station, I think that’s a valid question to ask—listen, can I just see Spencer? He asked me to pick him up. Do I have to pay bail, or what?”

Morgan passed a man talking to the officer at the front, then did a double take. “Did you say Spencer?” His grip on the water bottle tightened. “How do you know him?”

Jesse cleared his throat. “I, uh…he called me a few minutes ago to come pick him up—” He shook his head. “Look, can we stop with the interrogation? What do I have to do to be able to take him with me?”

Morgan looked between the man and the officer. “I’ll take it from here.” Johnson nodded and left. “Who are you, man? Seriously. Don’t lie to me.”

“Who are _you_ , questioning me?" Jesse shot back. "He called me to come pick him up. Isn’t that all you guys need?”

Morgan pulled his badge from his pocket, shoving it in the man's face. “I’m a fucking federal agent.” He tilted his head.

“Now. Who. Are. You?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag for, or if I should be putting a warning at the beginning of the chapter!! I apologize for barely having Jesse in this chapter, but if you're at all intrigued by him, you're in luck--the next chapter will feature him heavily ;)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me a while to get out--I was visiting family for a few days and had to catch up on schoolwork, but it's here now! I hope you enjoy!

When Morgan shoved the badge in his face, Jesse sucked in a breath and raised his hands. “Woah, man, I didn’t realize this was a case for the feds. We just met at a party last night and I gave him my number—is he, like, a serial killer or something? Shit, I had no clue—”

“Wait, _you_ gave him your number last night?” Morgan asked slowly. Jesse nodded. “Your name?”

“Jesse. Jesse Atwood. Uh, Spencer doesn’t know my last name, though. Come to think of it, I don’t know his.”

Morgan blinked and shook his head. “Alright. Follow me, I guess.” The water bottle crackled in his hand as he tightened his grip. Jesse swallowed. Morgan knocked on the door and cracked it. “Hey, kid. You call this guy?”

Reid looked up when the door opened and he glowed. “Jesse! Hey!” He stood up and immediately fell back down onto the chair. “Yeah, I called him. Now you can go.”

Morgan frowned, coming in and setting the bottle down. “You called him…so I could go help them?”

Reid nodded, greedily grabbing the bottle and sucking the water down. When he finished, he set it back on the table. “They’re already a man down. You…” He pointed up at Morgan, his eyes still glassy. “You can help. Jesse will take me back. Right?” He looked expectantly at Jesse.

“I—uh, fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take—you’re a fed?” he stammered, laughing in disbelief. “God, this is crazy.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Morgan growled at Jesse, pushing him up against the wall. “He’s got a serious fucking problem, and I’m not just going to leave him with some stranger he met at a party last night. I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll put that aside for him. I don’t want you here. I don’t want Spencer going with you. I don’t trust you for a goddamn second. You understand?”

“I see where Spencer gets it from,” Jesse choked out, but he was smirking. “Can you let go of my neck so I can talk to you?”

Morgan let go, clenching his jaw. “You better talk quick,” he ordered, jabbing a finger at his chest.

Jesse cleared his throat. “Listen, man, you’re right. I barely know him, and you’re obviously invested in his safety. I don’t blame you. You guys seem close. If we were that close, I wouldn’t trust me either.” He looked between Reid and Morgan, trying to gauge their relationship. Morgan gave him no indication either way. He moved on. “But, c’mon. I know you guys are feds. The first thing you would do if anything happened to Spencer would be to come after me. I’m not that stupid.” Morgan raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _Are you sure?_ “Does he have a hotel room? We can go there instead of mine if that’d make you feel better.”

Morgan glared, silent for a moment. Then, he gritted out, “If anything happens to him, I’ll kill you,” and this time, Jesse didn’t laugh. He nodded.

“I got you, man. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Morgan crossed his arms. “Why do you even care what happens to him? You met him last night. If you’re doing this because you think you’ll get an in with a federal agent, you’re shit outta luck.”

Jesse shook his head. “I’m not looking for any kinda reward. I don’t need it. I know I met him last night. It’s kind of impossible to forget, with everyone bringing it up every minute.” He shook his head and exhaled through his teeth. “But you need to do your job, and I like him. I don’t mind keeping an eye on him. I want to, actually. I wanna get to know him better.”

“Good luck,” Morgan muttered, but Reid looked up at Jesse and smiled a little.

In turn, Jesse looked down at Reid. “You know your address?”

“900 10th Street Northwest, Washington DC, DC 20001-4405,” Reid replied helpfully, making both Morgan and Jesse chuckle.

“Does he just know shit like that off the top of his head?” Jesse asked.

Morgan shook his head, looking at Reid fondly. “You should hear him when he’s sober.”

Reid made a face. “I might be high, but I’m not deaf. I can hear you talking about me like I’m not here. Like I’m Derek’s son.”

Morgan wore a similar expression. “Ugh, kid—Reid—that’s not what I mean at all.”

“Then what do you mean?” Reid looked up at him expectantly. _Please say it. He’ll say it. He has to._

“I mean—” Morgan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” Reid’s face fell. “Take care of yourself, okay? As much as you can.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. And I mean _anything_.”

Reid’s lips twitched to the side and he looked down. _You’re delusional._ “Right. I’ll…do that, Morgan.” He managed a tired-looking smile. “Now, go save Stephanie.”

Morgan nodded and grabbed his phone. He went for the door, then looked back at Jesse. He made a throat-slitting motion and raised an eyebrow, then left. Jesse let out a slow breath. “I would _not_ wanna be in an interrogation room with that son’bitch, shit.” He laughed. “C’mon. Let’s get you outta here.” He went over to Reid and held out his hand. “Can you stand?”

Reid shook his head, pouting a little. Jesse laughed again and shook his head. “You’re a grown-ass man. How are you so damn cute?” Reid flushed. “No worries, Spence. I got you.” He pulled him up out of the chair, putting his arm under Reid’s armpits and holding most of his weight. “I drove here, so don’t have to worry about walking all the way to the hotel.” Reid was starting to sweat again, and he pawed at the buttons of his vest. Jesse noticed and touched his hand. “We’ll get you cooled down once you’re in the car,” he promised. “But it’s not gonna look great for me if I’m dragging you out of a police station half-dressed.”

Reid made a soft noise of protest. “Too hot,” he whimpered. The brief lucidity he’d had had floated away, and now all he was aware of was the suffocating heat.

Jesse sighed. “Okay. Vest off, but the shirt stays on, alright, Agent?” he said teasingly, adjusting his position.

“It’s Doctor,” Reid mumbled as Jesse pressed a large hand into his back to steady him. “Got three Ph.D.s. And three B.A.s.” He looked into Jesse’s concentrated face and licked his dry lips. “You’ve got bigger hands than Derek.”

Jesse chuckled. “Oh, yeah? What’s the deal with you two, anyway? You hooking up, or—” Reid shook his head, pouting again.

“I’m in love with him. But he doesn’t know it. He’s a profiler, stupid. He should know.” His words slipped clumsily out of his mouth before he could stop them. He suddenly pitched forward, pressing his forehead into Jesse’s neck. “He’s so stupid.” Jesse blinked and held Reid’s head. He winced; he could feel the heat radiating from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “Come on, let’s get that vest off and then we can get you into the car.” He slipped the vest off Reid’s shoulders. “That your bag?” Reid didn’t look up, but nodded. Jesse awkwardly held Reid to him as he reached for the bag, stuffing the vest inside and slinging it over his own shoulder. “Alright. Car time, let’s go.” He readjusted again. “Can you try to walk? Just a bit, Spence, you’ve got it.”

“Only JJ calls me Spence,” Reid mumbled, his feet feeling nearly too heavy to pick up. With tremendous effort, he managed to put one foot in front of the other. _She’d be so disappointed in you._ He took a shuddering breath. “Car time,” he echoed. “Let’s go.”

Jesse squeezed Reid’s hip. “You got it,” he encouraged gently, the pair slowly walking to the door. “Take as much time as you need.” Reid was squinting, even though he’d put contacts in that morning.

“Never had to do this much walking,” he admitted. “Usually can’t.” Jesse’s throat burned with unasked questions. But that wasn’t his job. His job was to make sure this near-stranger—this federal agent—got to his hotel safely.

Reid was too intoxicated to notice the stares of the officers as he made the walk of shame back out of the station. _What would Gideon say if he could see you? He’d be disappointed too._

_But Gideon isn’t here._

_Never will be again._

He clutched Jesse’s arm, pushing down nausea quickly beginning to churn in his stomach. “Call Gideon,” he whimpered. “Please.”

Jesse looked at him in concern. “That guy’s name was Morgan. Derek, right? I, uh..I don’t know who Gideon is. I’m sorry.” They were so close to the entrance, but Reid had stopped in his tracks. “Spencer, c’mon, man. We’re almost to the car.”

“I want Gideon,” he begged. “Want him to know.” _He doesn’t care about you, Spencer. If he did, he wouldn’t have left._ Before Jesse could say anything else, Reid shook his head. “Never mind,” he mumbled. “He won’t answer.” His heart pounded, and another wave of nausea washed over him. “Lesgo.”

Jesse blinked, thoroughly thrown off. “…Alright.” He helped Reid out to the curb, guiding him into the car. “Duck…yeah, good.” Reid clumsily folded his limbs into the seat and let his head loll on the headrest. It was far too much effort to hold it up. He was still overheated. Jesse got into the driver’s seat and looked over at Reid pathetically tugging at the collar of his button-up. He looked at him fondly and leaned over. “Can I help?” he asked, and Reid nodded, letting his hand drop. “There we go.” He quickly unbuttoned the shirt and helped Reid tug it off, leaving him in just a soaked white tank top. “Shit, you weren’t joking. Okay, let’s get this AC going.” He turned on the car and blasted the air conditioning, then buckled Reid in. “Once we get to the hotel, we’ll get you out of those clothes.”

It took them a while, Jesse needing Reid to repeat his quiet, slurred directions more often than not, but they eventually reached the hotel. “You’ve got your room key on you, right?”

Reid nodded loosely, pointing behind him to his bag in the back seat. Jesse reached for it. He dug through the bag, looking under disorganized papers and notepads. His fingers touched something cold and hard, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pulling it out. Reid didn’t notice Jesse’s discovery, too focused on counting the windows of the hotel. “Spencer, what is this?” Jesse asked quietly. “Spencer, this is—this is _morphine_.”

“Hydromorphone,” he corrected sleepily. “Dilaudid.” Jesse sucked in a breath. Reid let his head flop to look over at him. “Wanna go in.” He yawned and closed his eyes.

Jesse cleared his throat, stuffing the bottle bag into the bag. “Yeah. Right.” He found the key card and pulled it out, putting it in his pocket. “C’mon, Spence. Spencer.” He went around to the passenger side and helped him out of the car. Reid flopped into his arms, barely conscious.

* * *

_“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong, boy—"_

_“Tell me it doesn’t make it better—"_

_“Confess your sins. CONFESS—"_

_“That’s the devil vacating your body—"_

_“You came back to life—”_

_“Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will—”_

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I confess, I confess!”

“ _Spencer_!”

“Spencer!”

Reid gasped awake, clutching his chest. “What—what’s going on, where am I?” he cried. Hands that weren’t his cupped his face. He tried pulling away, but they held tight. He blinked rapidly. A concerned face slowly appeared. The second he realized it was Jesse, he collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Jesse held him close, stroking his hair.

“Shh, Spence, you’re okay,” he said gently. “You’re okay, just breathe.” Reid was hyperventilating, but he pressed his face into the other man’s neck and took shuddering breaths. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” Jesse repeated the words until Reid pulled away.

“What’s…going on?” he repeated shakily, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Where’m I?” His heart pounded and his stomach churned. _What did he see?_

Jesse looked at Reid sadly, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “You’re in your hotel room. Agent Morgan told me to bring you here. Do you remember calling me?” Reid nodded. “Can I…do anything for you?” He put his hand on Reid’s exposed thigh, making him look down. He only wore boxers, which he was glad about. It would’ve just made things worse if he’d been overheating too.

He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair, his fingers catching on knots. “Water,” he asked quietly. He knew that wasn’t what Jesse meant, but it was all he could give him. “How long…have we been here?” It was dark out, but it hadn’t been when they’d come in. Right? His head felt fuzzy.

“About six hours,” Jesse replied, handing him a water bottle off the nightstand. “You…well, do you want me to tell you?”

“Yeah,” Reid sighed. He took the bottle gratefully. “I’d like to know how much I need to apologize.”

Jesse made a face that Reid couldn’t decipher. “Had to practically drag you up to the room. You, uh, begged me to take your clothes off—not like that,” he hurriedly explained. “‘Cause you couldn’t get your pants off, so I…did that for you.” His skin deepened in a blush. “I swear, I didn’t touch you. Not like that,” he repeated. “Just helped you out of your pants.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, then, you kinda collapsed in the chair and started rambling about that guy Gideon and someone named Tobias…dunno if they’re the same person?” Reid’s blood ran cold. “And, uh, you also talked a lot about Morgan. A lot.” Reid swallowed. _Stupid._ “And then you passed out for about five hours, and about ten minutes ago you started talking in your sleep. Thrashing. I woke you up ‘cause I didn’t want you hurting yourself. Hope that was okay.” He looked at Reid, who just nodded. “Listen, I don’t know all that went down with you, or any of those guys, but there was obviously a lot. If you wanna explain any of it, go for it, but I know we still barely know each other, so I don’t blame you if you wanna just keep all that to yourself.”

Reid held his face, rocking silently as he thought. Did he want to tell Jesse? Was there a point? Morgan trusted him enough to let him take Reid, and Reid trusted him enough to call him, but did that mean anything? Like he’d said, they were still strangers. But he wanted so badly to trust him. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he reminded him of Derek. Maybe he wanted someone outside of the BAU to talk to. Maybe the Dilaudid was still affecting his judgement. Whatever the reason was, Reid felt the urge to talk to him.

“Gideon was my mentor.” Reid laughed dryly, shaking his head. “He was more than that. I loved him like the father I never got to have. I thought he loved me like a son. But he left as suddenly as my real father did,” he confessed. “He left a letter for me. For _just_ me. But that was all I got. And I haven’t heard from him since.” Jesse rubbed his thigh with his thumb. Instead of cringing, like he normally would, Reid relaxed. “Tobias…was the one who got me addicted.” He could feel his throat closing up, and he shook his head.

“It’s okay,” Jesse comforted. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” Reid nodded, pressing his lips together. After a minute of silence, he continued.

“I hate Derek,” he admitted with a laugh. “I hate him. Because I love him and he’s never going to love me back. He only sees me as a brother at best, and a son at worst.” His face crinkled up in discomfort. “But I could be okay with that. I’ve been making peace with it ever since we met. Except he didn’t do anything when he knew I was getting high. He could’ve done _something_. Anything. But all he did was tell me to be careful. Be _careful_.” He scoffed. “Well, I did what he wanted. I was careful. Until today. I couldn’t help myself.” He looked at Jesse, begging him to understand. “Every second I don’t have it, it hurts. It feels like it’s killing my soul, and I don’t even believe that I have one.”

Jesse sighed and looked down, then back at Reid. “I know. I know what it’s like.” Reid didn’t need to be clear-headed to know he meant it. “It wasn’t Dilaudid, but…close. It’s really hard, Spencer. I won’t lie to you. I know you know that already. But because I know what it’s like to want it, I know what it’s like to beat it. And if you’ll let me, I’ll help you beat it too.” He took Reid’s clammy hands in his own and squeezed them. “Please let me, Spencer.”

“Why do you care?” Reid asked, his tongue still working awkwardly around the words. It seemed his brain would let him spill his darkest secrets with ease, but not ask the other man a simple question.

Jesse let go of Reid’s hands. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Because you need someone in your corner, Spence. I could tell Derek cares about you, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like. You need someone helping you that’s not gonna make you quit cold turkey. That’ll stick with you through the good days and the bad—”

“I could get a Narcotics Anonymous sponsor for that. Why do _you_ care?” Reid asked, more firmly.

Jesse seemed to internally debate the question before responding. “Because I like you, Spencer. I want to get to know you more, and I don’t care if I have to help you battle your addiction to do it. And I know we’re not… _anything_ , but I also know I want you to be happy. So…will you let me help you?”

Reid swallowed, looking into Jesse’s earnest eyes until it was too much. _Don’t let him. It feels so much better. You already know how difficult it’ll be to detox. You don’t want to do it again. It’s so much easier to say no._

“Okay.”


End file.
